


Celebrity Crush, Olympics Edition

by MaraMcGregor



Series: Celebrity Crush [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 2009 - 2010 Junior Grand Prix of Figure Skating, 2010 United States Figure Skating Championships, 2010 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Family Feels, Figure Skater Eric "Bitty" Bittle, First Crush, Fluff, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Slow Burn, Typical Reasons for Getting a Tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraMcGregor/pseuds/MaraMcGregor
Summary: Part 3 in the Celebrity Crush Series. Takes place before the other two. Eric Bittle is an up and coming young figure skater. Too bad small town Georgia doesn't think that's a thing to be proud of. However, he considers himself lucky. He has the unwavering support of his family and coach. And he may just have made a friend on the football team, of all places. His goals this season: to have an amazing Senior level debut and become the Junior World Champion. He gets a chance at a very different stage.Amazing Artwork by: Matt Spencer





	Celebrity Crush, Olympics Edition

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this is WAY more fluff than stress. But, I had to put those tags in because they are very real things that happen in the story and I don't want anyone triggered. Please be aware that there is homophobic language used, and there is a scene where Bitty gets beat up for it.

Coach Bittle stared at the printed out pieces of paper his son had given him to study. In theory, it was a good way for him to learn the inner workings of figure skating. He was always attracted to following the stats of certain players in football. It was why he almost always won his fantasy league. But some of these results didn’t seem to make sense when calculating Grade of Execution. And the variation in some of the judges’ scores was mind-boggling. He couldn’t figure out how one judge would give an 8.75 and another a perfect 10. He supposed that’s why they had a panel of nine judges and it looked like they took an average. At least sometimes. The Grade of Execution was still bothering him. But, he finally understood that highlight distribution was referring to the fact that they were jumps done at the back half of the program. He would have preferred it if they just said “bonus” like the TV did when the clock reached the second half.

He knew Eric didn’t care if he understood even half of what was in front of him. Just the fact that he had gone to a couple of practices was enough to light up his son’s face. But, he _wanted_ to understand. Watching Eric practice his quads was an exercise in self-control. Every time Eric fell, Coach had to stop himself from rushing the ice. The strength it took for Eric to get back up, skate it off, and try again was awe-inspiring. It really hammered home that the finished result was supposed to look effortless and beautiful, but the athleticism it took to get there was humbling.

The whispers were starting to get to him, though. He had spent a lot of his time before ignoring what people said about Eric. He ashamedly admitted to himself that he had vaguely agreed with them. It _would_ have been easier _for him_ if Eric had been more interested in football, or more traditionally masculine.

It was during poker night that it really hit the fan. Every Saturday, his hunting buddies would come over, watch the game, drink beer, and shoot the shit. Except the previous week, he had had to cancel. Eric had a regional competition and was testing out the new season’s routines. Apparently, skaters divided up what jumps they could do by if they landed them in practice or in competition. And Eric had never done a quad toe loop combination in competition before. He needed to get it down to increase his base score. He was the heavy favorite entering the new season on the Junior circuit. But, his real goal was to participate on the Senior level by the time Nationals came around in January.

Eric had tried to hide his nerves, but still ended up in the kitchen baking up a storm. And Coach just couldn’t ignore the opportunity to go see his son perform. So, he made his excuses and spent the weekend in Atlanta. The entry to the second jump wasn’t the cleanest Eric had ever managed, but he pulled it out. Coach thought his heart would burst with pride when he watched his son climb the podium and take first place.

“So, Coach, you watched _figure skating_ all weekend?”

The guys grinned and bumped elbows.

Coach kept his voice level. “Yep. Watched Junior get first place, too.”

Travis groaned, “Lord, that must have been torture. Couldn’t his mama have gone if he needed hand holding?”

“Junior doesn’t need hand holding. He’s traveled around the globe with just his coach. I went because I wanted to.”

Randy decided he needed to get his two-cents in. “Don’t you think you’re starting to take this whole _thing_ a bit far?”

Coach swallowed and pretended that he didn’t know what Randy meant. “Thing? I’m cheering for my son, who is on Team USA.”

“C’mon, Coach. You watchin’ figure skatin’? And him bein’ how he is. Donchou think you should be tyrin’ ta stop all this nonsense? Have ya thought about one a them camps for people who ain’t quite right? Straighten all this mess out before he does something God can’t forgive?” Billy pressed in his deepest twang.

“My _son_ is a good-hearted and generous soul. He is _also_ one of the top athletes in the world. All at fourteen. There is nothing wrong with him. He is perfect exactly the way he is.” Coach gritted out the last bit as he tried to rein in his temper.

Apparently, Travis wasn’t about to accept that answer. “C’mon, Rick. He’s a fuckin’ fairy, and everyone knows it.”

Coach didn’t remember standing up and grabbing Travis’ shirt. He also didn’t remember cocking his arm back. But, he does feel the follow through, and the satisfying crunch as his fist met Travis’ face. “If you ever, _ever_ , think about using another slur against my son, it won’t be my fist that finds your face. I don’t care who he brings home to meet us. I want him happy. I want him alive. And if that’s a girl that does that, fine. If it’s a boy? Then they’d better damned well be thankful to have him in their life.”

Suzanne peeked around the corner. “You boys gonna need an ice pack? Or are we sending everyone home to think about how to be better people?”

The silence stretched on in the living room. Just as Randy, Billy, and Travis were about to leave, the front door rattled and opened.

“Hey, Mama! Daddy! There was a package out on the porch. Anyone expecting anything?”

Coach glared at Travis, daring him to say a word.

“No, baby. We haven’t ordered anything. Who’s it from?” Suzanne met Eric at the door and steered him away from the living room.

“I’m not sure. Says it’s from Colorado Springs.”

Coach hovered in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Suzanne passed Junior the scissors. He felt the guys hovering at a discreet distance behind him and pointedly ignored them. He stepped out of the living room and into the kitchen when he heard his wife and son gasp. Eric pulled something out of the box, unfolded it, and held it up for everyone to see. It was the official Team USA jacket.

“That’s amazing, son. Why don’t you try it on?”

Suzanne grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, let me get my camera. This is one for the scrapbook. And I need to call your Moomaw. She would never forgive me if I didn’t tell her to come and see!”

It was that moment when Eric looked up and noticed the three men standing behind Coach. “Mr. Forrest, what happened to your face?”

Travis gave Coach a look from the corner of his eye that was rapidly swelling. “Nothin’ some ice won’t fix.”

Eric opened his mouth to continue when Coach spoke up, “I think this is about to turn into a family moment. I’ll let you know when I have a free weekend.”

The three men trudged out, eyeing Eric and the jacket, but kept their mouths shut.

 

* * *

 

Eric sat nervously as Coach’s team arrived for practice. Summer training was taken seriously in small town Georgia. But this one was unusual, even more than the fact that he was attending it.

Nike had requested to use him for their ad. And they had gifted him with their newest and most expensive running shoes. They came with a member from legal to get parental signatures and a massive camera crew. They had already finished filming him on the ice and in the ballet studio. Now, they wanted to show off their shoes.

Eric watched as Coach and the legal guy shook the hands of the players and parents. He was sure they would convince the parents to participate. Eric knew Coach had something up his sleeve. He had been far too smug the past couple of days. Whatever it was, Nike was happy to play along. Eric watched as the bleachers started to fill in. The players took the field and the cameramen set up at two different points where they would be running by.

The director waved Eric over and jovially indicated to the team to gather around. “Okay, boys! Thanks for agreeing to help us out. Now, I know you might think it’s a bit unusual for us to be doing a Winter Sports ad, but I’m sure Eric will be happy to share his year-round training expertise. Please remember, this is just an ad. We don’t want anyone to feel hurt going against a competitive athlete.”

One of the wide receivers snorted. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on the _figure skater_.”

The director furrowed his brow at the tone and glanced at Eric, who just turned away and stayed silent.

Coach broke in with a bark. “There is no going easy. This is training camp. If I see anyone not giving 110%, you’ll be doing suicides until you puke.”

The team gave him the expected, “Yes, Coach.”

“Take a lap to warm up, then I want your fastest miles.”

“Yes, Coach.” The team trotted out to the field at their own paces and began their warm up.

As Eric passed him, Coach patted him on the shoulder. “Beat the snot out of ‘em, Junior.”

Eric gave him a half smile and nodded. He stretched his legs out and jumped up and down a few times, getting the blood circulating back to his muscles. He had already done his morning workout before breakfast and warmed up while they waited for the team to arrive.

Coach pretended to ignore the whispers and the not-quite-quiet-enough remarks from the parents behind him. It never changed. In the past, he had always thought that maybe they had a point, that there was no way for a figure skater to be nearly as athletic as a football player. But that had all started to change when he started actually paying attention. Sure, Junior would never be able to take a hit like a linebacker, but even quarterbacks weren’t supposed to take that hit. He grinned as the boys lined up.

The Nike director stood just behind him and chattered on his headset. “We’re good to go, Coach Bittle.”

He brought the whistle to his mouth and blew hard, the piercing sound echoing across the field.

The boys were off and Junior had an early lead. He listened to the whispers get uglier as Junior outstripped the team. As they reached the half mile mark, the only thing he could compare it to was watching Secretariat at the Kentucky Derby. His boy was no Olympic runner, but he _was_ the current US Junior National Champion and current bronze medalist from the Junior Worlds Championship.

The Nike director nudged him and asked, “Why aren’t you stopping them from saying those things?”

“Nothing I can say will change them. They are small-minded people living in a small town. They go to church and are told what they want to hear. The leaders they listen to reinforce their bigotry. What I _can_ do is show them they are wrong. My son may be small, he may not be traditionally masculine, but he’s tougher than every single person in this town. Including the football team. And I won’t stand for any type of hateful speech from my team.” Coach pressed his lips together and grimaced. “It took me too long to support my son the way he needed. Far too long.”

“What do you think makes him such a successful athlete, then, if you don’t feel that he’s had enough parental support?”

Coach answered, never taking his eyes off his son, who had only lengthened his lead. “He’s the second strongest person I know. His great grandmother - on his mother’s side - definitely takes the cake. She was born in Austria in 1921 and she’s Jewish. She married a young Englishman who brought her over here when things took an even worse turn. They escaped under the cover of darkness while she was 5 months pregnant. If she wasn’t still alive and kicking, I’d swear that Junior was her spirit reincarnated.”

He stepped away as Eric finished up. He was breathing heavy, but his face was bright. He bounced in his shiny new shoes, energy exuding from every pore. “What’s next, Coach?”

Coach gave him a wink and put on his sternest football coach face as his team started to come in. “I thought you boys said you were tougher than some figure skater that does ballet?” He let the silence stretch out as the team panted, bent in half, trying not to puke in front of the Nike crew and their parents. Coach nodded to the crew and they picked up and went to their next marks. “If everyone is ready to take this seriously, stairs! Now!”

Eric hauled to the bleachers and started up the stairs. The second string quarterback followed hot on his trail, determined to make a good showing.

“That’s it Daniels! That’s what I like to see! Keep it up and maybe you’ll be first line this season!”

Seth Daniels refused to let anything distract him. He didn’t want to remain second string forever. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his dark lashes. With the pace Dicky was setting, he couldn’t afford to wipe it off. He forced himself to ignore everything but his own breathing. He took a bit of satisfaction knowing that he was ahead of Forrest, the raging bigot. More than once he’d caught him muttering racial slurs just low enough to not be heard by teachers, but loud enough for his intended target to hear.

Travis Forrest Jr. sneered and tried to keep up. It was one thing for his daddy to have come home needing an ice pack, but he was not going to lose his place as the star of Madison High School to the janitor’s son. It quickly became clear who had given up on keeping up. They did their drills, but at their own pace. The others pushed themselves past their limits, struggling to keep Eric from getting too far ahead.

Coach ran them all through their paces for the next hour. “Alright, bring it in boys!” He looked them over before addressing his son. “Junior, how ya feeling?”

Eric panted lightly, soaked in sweat, but grinning. “Good! Ready for dinner.”

Coach looked at his watch and nodded. “Yep. Better be gettin’ you back home. There’s just enough time for you to get fed, showered, and back to the rink.”

The team shared a stunned look.

Daniels tried to regulate his breathing so that he could get out his question. “You’re going _back_ to the rink? Today?”

Eric smiled and nodded. “Yeah, this is my second cardio workout today. I started before breakfast, then worked on footwork and choreography with my coach, then went to the ballet studio, this was my second cardio, and then I have full practice with Katya.”

Daniels shook his head and ran a hand over his closely shaved hair. “Better you than me.”

Coach gave his team a hard look. “If any of you have designs on making it to the professional level, that’s the type of dedication and work you’re going to have to put into it. Talent helps, but it’s hard work that makes the difference.” He watched as the message hit home. Those that would never play beyond high school were obvious. He had hopes that some of his boys might at least make it to the college level. But, Daniels really impressed him.

“Hey Dicky, you mind if I join you on your morning workout?”

Eric was clearly taken aback but managed to get himself together enough to reply, “Sure! You want to meet at your place? I start at 5:30.”

“And you eat breakfast after?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure my breakfast looks really different to what you should be eating for football. But, you’re more than welcome to come eat with us.”

Coach slapped his hand on Junior’s back. “I’ll fix you up what you need. Lots more protein than what this one gets. He needs to keep his weight down.”

Several of the boys looked up in confusion. They had never thought any guy would be trying to keep his weight _down_ for his sport.

“I need to have maximum muscle and minimum weight. It’s what lets me get my speed up and enough height to do a triple axel. And if I don’t have that, I won’t have a chance at making the Junior Grand Prix Final.”

Daniels nodded, finally standing mostly upright. “Cool.” He took a pause to suck in another breath of air. “What’s the Grand Prix Final?”

“It’s an international competition. I was assigned to the circuit by US Figure Skating after I won the Junior Championship title. If I place well in the first two rounds, I’ll make the final. Then I have to compete against the other 5 best skaters from around the world.”

Coach noted the guys who rolled their eyes and snorted at Daniels, and those that stood just a bit closer to him. Maybe it wasn’t much, but he had hopes that at least some of these kids would grow up to be a bit more open-minded than their parents.

 

* * *

 

August brought with it the new school year and the beginnings of both the football season and the figure skating season. A new routine had settled over the Bittle household. Eric would jog over to the Daniels’ house and pick up Seth for their morning workout and be back in time for breakfast. Suzanne went out of her way to cook two different breakfasts, one for her and Eric and the other for Coach and Seth. Then, Seth would hop in the truck and Eric would drive them both to school, dropping by the Daniels’ to pick up his backpack.

From there, Coach didn’t get a chance to see his son until after football practice. Depending on the day, he would leave from the high school and drive either to the ballet studio or the rink. Junior had gotten the quad toe loop mostly consistent and they were working on the salchow. He didn’t need either for the Junior division, but if he wanted to do well at Nationals in the Senior division, it was going to be necessary. Currently, his programs only included a triple flip, triple toe loop combination. They were hoping to change that to a quad salchow once they had a better idea of what the rest of the field was doing.

Homework had to be turned in early and projects rearranged with teachers to handle his absences. Coach had wanted to go to Budapest. But, Junior’s first Grand Prix assignment was in late August, and he just couldn’t leave in the middle of football season. So, for the first time in four years, Suzanne packed a bag, double checked her passport, and fretted over whether their coats would be warm enough. Junior had laughed and said that she should only pack them for the rink. Late August in Hungary was hot and humid.

New programs were always hard to break into. He knew several people on the Senior level that were keeping their short programs from the previous season. It had the advantage of being polished and easily adaptable if necessary later in the season. And predictability was a huge selling point when it came to the Olympic Selection Committee. Eric, on the other hand, needed a full change of pace. He needed two programs that would seem more adult and flexible enough to account for the minor differences in the junior and senior division requirements.

They had settled on Georgia On My Mind for the short program. His costume was a hot pink collared shirt with rhinestones on the collar and the rolled cuffs. It was paired with black pants and suspenders, with a thin line of black rhinestones barely visible down the length of his legs. He tried to convince his mother and Katya to let him have more sparkle, but they insisted that it wasn’t necessary and wouldn’t help his image.

He had to admit that it felt a bit - kitschy - to be from Georgia and dancing to this song, but he also had to admit that it was a very acceptable routine and the judges tended to score more favorably on traditional music. He was thankful that he didn’t need to modify the routine from the junior requirements into a senior program. It wouldn’t score as well on the senior level because it wasn’t designed with a quad in mind, but he had his triple axel and that would make up for his lack of quad if he performed it well. Even on the senior level, skaters were known to under rotate that jump.

He knew his base value on his short program was among the highest in Juniors. And if he could skate it clean, he’d go into the free skate in the lead. Goal clearly in mind, he took position at center ice facing the judging panel. The arena was almost empty except for the immediate family members of the skaters, the judging panel, and the various technical crew members. He steadied himself with one last breath in and the music began.

Keeping with the music, he measured his steps into long, powerful strides, gliding easily over the ice. He picked up speed and sailed into his triple flip-triple toe loop combination. His free leg arched gracefully behind him as he landed the toe loop. Eric moved through some simple choreography and back towards center ice for his flying sit spin. He focused on maintaining his position and struggled to count his revolutions without getting dizzy. He pulled himself to a stand and dug his toe pick into the ice and reset. He took several deep breaths as he rushed around the rink, gaining speed, made several edge turns and then faced directly into the jump to leap into his triple axel. On the half rotation, he landed on the foot he needed and kept his edge clean and steady. No under rotations today, thank you very much. He was now back at the farthest end of the rink and set for his mandatory step sequence. It signified the second half of his program and the highlight distribution for his remaining jump was in effect. He had to manage the steps and pick up speed so that he could emphasize his entry into the triple lutz. He nailed the last jump and let himself smile in relief. All that remained was the stand alone camel spin, some bright choreography for the artistic effect, and the final combination spin moving from a camel to donut to Biellmann, and finishing in an upright stance, one hand held next to his ear, the other reaching out to the distance.

Eric grinned and barely held himself together as he skated off the ice. Katya was smiling just as broadly as they went to sit in the Kiss & Cry. The sweepers brought a small assortment of toys back and placed them in clear plastic bags. A relatively short amount of time passed while Katya held his hand and pressed it into his knee to keep him from bouncing it.

“May we have the scores, please.”

All eyes turned to look at the judges and Eric bit his lip as the pause lingered for a second.

“The scores for Eric Bittle’s short program are 74.70 and he is currently in first place.”

Eric glanced around trying to locate his mom in the crowd and leaned into Katya as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “отличная работа”

“Thanks! Phew. One down!”

Eric felt confident going into his free skate two days later and wanted to go for his quad salchow. Katya insisted that he keep it simple. It was still early in the season and he didn’t need it. Yet.

The day break between the short program and free skate was spent in morning practice, a power lunch, and a basic cardio workout. That night though, he was able to wander Budapest with his mom. She was dazzled by the ancient feel of the city. They grabbed selfies in front of Fisherman’s Bastion, Matthias Church, and tons more as they walked along the banks of the Danube. Neither of his parents had ever traveled with him out of the country to his competitions before. They trusted Katya implicitly to take care of their son. Eric had accepted that they couldn’t make it for a variety of reasons. But this season, with his parents’ unwavering support, he could see that while they were valid reasons, they were also excuses. He knew better than to expect this at every competition. It would be prohibitively expensive. He promised himself that he would make the most of having his mama with him in Hungary and show her everything he could. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. That night, he went to sleep more content than he had ever felt while travelling.

He couldn’t have asked for the free skate to go any better. He didn’t do any of his quads, but the routine was clean, his edges were sharp, and his final spin was fluid. That was the moment he realized that his mother had been there to see it in person, and he got teary-eyed. He knew they would have to wait to call his dad until the phone charges wouldn’t be so exorbitant.

Mentally, he had to check himself. Yes, he just won the Junior Grand Prix Hungary at 14. But it was the first in a long season. He had to get back home and back into practice for Croatia, over a month away. He had put himself in good standing to make the Final, but he needed another good skate to seal his spot. And having high rankings always helped when heading into later events during the season.

 

* * *

 

When Eric got back to Georgia, it was like time had stood still. The first line of the football team was still angry with him for showing them up back in July in front of Nike and their parents. And coming home having won an international event for their country seemed to have a negative effect, rather than a positive one. Slurs were hurled at him more than ever before. Some of the teachers that had at least idly stepped in, turned a blind eye when some of the bigger boys decided to get rough.

Eric was fairly certain that if it wasn’t for Seth, he would have spent every night crying himself to sleep. Unfortunately, Seth and him didn’t share many classes. Eric was a middling student at best and struggled to maintain B’s and C’s with all of his travel. He would have fallen deeper into the D range if it wasn’t for Katya being the ever consummate Russian coach. Seth, on the other hand, was in several accelerated learning classes and even took AP Calculus. Eric wished he was able to focus on schoolwork like that. But, whenever he started comparing himself to Seth, Seth reminded him that representing the US on the world stage was significantly more than what anyone else in their town had ever done. Eric kept his concerns about future employment and fall back plans to himself. Flying by the seat of his pants was more fun in skates than in the real world.

Seth never once missed a day to train with Eric in the morning. He was still second line, but not because of his speed or endurance. He needed to work on his throwing arm and that just wasn’t anything Eric could help him with.

“I dunno, Dicky. If I can’t get a better arm, I’m never going to get past second line. And I need to move up so that I can have a chance at a scholarship. My family just can’t afford to send me to college without one.”

“You’re really smart. Can’t you try for an academic one?”

Seth shrugged. “Maybe. But odds are good that there’s other kids from out of state that’ll be better candidates. We have a shit educational system. And it’s only thanks to your pop that we have a football program that’s going places.”

The boys sat under the large tupelo tree in the Bittles’ front yard. Eric couldn’t help but admire Seth’s physique. He was broad shouldered and the sweat from their run made his shirt stick to his skin. Seth dumped some water from his bottle over his closely shaved head. Eric was happy that he was flushed from their run or his cheeks would have given away his blush.

He couldn’t help but admire everything about Seth: his intelligence, kindness, his downright drool-worthy body. The Georgia sun was merciless, but Seth’s dark skin seemed to soak it up. His golden undertone radiated warmth, just like his smile.

Eric chewed on his lip. He didn’t know how to help his friend. And he was hesitant to offer advice that may make Seth think about him like everyone else. But he was so despondent, he had to try. “Ya know, sometimes it’s not all about throwing the ball, but about knowing how to move it on the ground. It’s not star quarterback material, but every team needs someone that knows how to evade the defense and make his own plays in tight spots.”

Seth sat back against the tree in the Bittles’ front yard. “What’re you thinking?”

“One of the things I do to train my flexibility and my core is ballet. I know it’s not exactly _masculine_ and it’s probably not gonna be well-received if anyone else finds out about it. But -”

“But you are crazy strong and no one can match you for speed.”

“Well, that’s more specifically spending a ridiculous amount of time on a treadmill. But, if you need to dodge out of the way of a defender, or pivot and make a move? That’s gonna come in real handy. I mean, maybe talk to my dad about it before signing up? And I don’t really know how much lessons cost. So, if it’s not feasible, then maybe we could work on some things together?” Eric tried to fight off a blush. He knew he was starting to fall for Seth. But, he promised himself that having such a good friend was more important than any crush. Besides, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, right now.

 

* * *

 

Everything had gone back to being fairly normal. Well, normal for the beginning of a season. Eric was back at school, turning in all his projects, and making sure to have a syllabus for the work he would need to get done. Katya was adamant that he not fall behind on his studies. And he didn’t want to see what sort of tutor she would arrange for him if he did.

His dad had told him that he would take him to the rink after practice. He had to walk past the locker rooms to get to his office. It was a decent sized office, but completely set apart from the rest of the school. At least he was able to park next to the building and avoid the trek that everyone else had to make.

As he made it by the locker room door, a distinctly unfriendly voice called to him. “Hey, fag!”

Eric kept his eyes forward and tried to ignore Travis Forrest Jr from disrupting his day.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!”

Eric kept walking, but heard heavy footsteps behind him and a large hand clamped around his shoulder.

“We need to have a little chat about how you and your _ways_ are contaminating the football team.”

Eric was bodily dragged backward into the locker room. He tried to break the hold on him, but all of his thrashing and pleading did nothing but make Travis laugh. The next several minutes stretched on for a painful eternity. Eric tried to block out the taunts and jeers. But he could do nothing about blocking out the pain of Travis’ fists as they landed blow after blow on his face and stomach. He knew he was in serious trouble. Travis and his friends didn’t seem like they were getting tired any time soon. Eric tried to raise his arms and cover his face as best as possible, but if help didn’t come soon, he was certain he was going to black out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Forrest?”

Eric felt his whole body sag in relief.

“Teaching this little fag exactly what happens to people like him in a God-fearing country.” Travis raised his fist and pulled Eric in closer with his other hand. “Get out of here Daniels. Unless you want everyone in Madison County to believe you’re actually friends with this queer.”

Seth gritted his teeth. He realized it was a loser of a situation. He couldn’t take on four first stringers on his own. But, he was truly terrified that if he did nothing, Dicky might not survive the encounter. “You’re a damned inbred idiot. You think you are going to get away with beating up Coach’s kid? And for the record, Eric _is_ my friend.”

The four bullies chuckled. “Awwww. Is poor Seth Daniels worried about his _boyfriend_ ? Is that why my daddy saw you going with little Dicky here to the _ballet_ studio?”

Forrest and his sycophants nearly choked with laughter. Eric, on the other hand, looked even paler than before. “I’m taking ballet to improve my footwork. But, that’s not something I’d expect you Neanderthals to know anything about. Football isn’t just about brute strength. You need to have finesse if you want to be a playmaker. And I’m not too proud to look for the best ways to improve my game.”

“You’re just as bad as this one.” Travis shook Eric with one meaty fist. “My daddy always said that you have to take care not to let the sins of others contaminate you. And look at that, he was right. Maybe you’ll repent after a night in the closet with _Dicky_ here,” Travis sneered.

The preacher’s son, Dugan, linebacker and all around muscle man for Travis, took two determined strides towards Seth, then swung a wild punch at his head. Seth nimbly ducked under the hit and kicked him in the shin as hard as he could. Dugan crumpled to the floor.

Seth smirked. “Shoulda taken care of those shin splints like Coach and the trainers told ya to.”

The two other bruisers, the sheriff’s kid and the county prosecutor’s son came after him with identical yells. Seth dodged and deflected the best he could, but one of them managed to get behind him and restrained him for the other to hit. The punches rained down on him, but he didn’t stop struggling. Every once in awhile he would catch a glimpse of Eric trying to fend off another blow. Blood was on the locker room floor. He couldn’t say whose it was, until he felt his nose give way under Dugan’s fist. He had gotten back up and decided to get some vengeance. Seth knew the large puddle under his feet, at least, was his.

“What in blue blazes is goin’ on in here?!”

Seth sagged in relief when he heard Coach’s voice, which ended up being a mistake as the goon behind him let go. Seth collapsed to the floor and immediately looked for Eric. He started to panic when Eric didn’t open his eyes, even though Coach had saved the day. Seth didn’t notice Travis and the others being escorted by the assistant coach to the principal’s office. He did notice when his own dad showed up and carefully pulled him into his lap. “Son, can you hear me?”

“Dicky -”

“Coach is calling an ambulance and the police. He’s right angry. Here he comes now.”  
  
“Junior?” The man that Seth always thought of as larger than life and the toughest person he knew, knelt next to the beaten body of his son and cried. He went to touch Eric’s face, but pulled back as if he was afraid to cause more damage. He settled on gripping Eric’s hand. “Junior, please, I need you to wake up. The ambulance is only 5 minutes out, but I need to know you’re okay.”

Silence was the only answer anyone got.

 

* * *

 

Coach had never been more livid in his life. It was only his fear for his son’s life that kept him from going home, getting his gun, and killing the little brat that did this to Eric and Seth. He knew small town politics were about to shit on his doorstep. He had never enjoyed the weird town leadership that came with being the high school football coach. But, he was going to need it considering two of the boys were the kids of the sheriff and the pastor. And their ringleader was the star quarterback. He figured it was a silver lining that he could argue that the first line QB beat up the second line QB.

Mr. Daniels knocked on the door frame to Eric’s hospital room. “Hey Coach, how’s he doin’?” His voice was low, careful to not disturb the unconscious boy.

“The docs say he’ll be okay. He’s got a minor concussion, but at least nothing’s broken. That would have devastated him. I can’t imagine how bad it would have been if it hadn’t been for your boy. How is he?”

“Awake. Scared for Eric.”

“You’ve done a damned good job with that boy of yours.”

Mr. Daniels shuffled into the room and stood next to Coach, quietly watching the rise and fall of Eric’s chest. “What those boys were saying -”

Coach growled. “They’re ignorant little fools raised by even more ignorant bigots.”

Mr. Daniels placed a hand on Coach’s shoulder. “Then I’m glad he has you in his corner.”

The tension bled out of Coach’s body. “He’s so incredibly talented. And he genuinely cares about other people. I’ve told him that I don’t care about anything other than his happiness and his health. Did you know he’s one of the best skaters in his age group in the world? And he’s going to compete in the Senior Division at Nationals this year.”

Mr. Daniels chuckled a bit. “I’ve heard.”

“Seth?”

“He’s been extremely thankful for all of the work Eric has done to help him improve his fitness for his game. I think he’s a bit in awe of how much conditioning it takes for Eric to do what he does.”

“To be honest, so am I. He’s very committed. He hasn’t been very vocal about it, but he’s hoping to be ready for the 2014 Olympics. If they had broken something or dislocated something, it would have ruined his chances of making it to Nationals this year and maybe have ruined his entire entry to the Senior Division.” Coach paused and forced himself to breathe. “Is it awful that I’m thankful they were too stupid to know what would do the worst damage?”

“No. Just a good parent.”

“A good parent wouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Then he would be living in a bubble. That’s the only way to stay completely safe from people determined to hurt him. And I don’t think he wants to live like that.”

“Maybe not. But, I don’t think it’s right that people want to hurt him because of what they _think_ he _might_ be. Hell, even if he is, it isn’t right that people want to hurt him. What type of bullshit town do we live in that this is okay and the boys that did this are likely not even going to get a slap on the wrist?”

“A small, Southern town that carries its Confederate flags like badges of honor and wishes we all lived in Gone With the Wind.”

“Idiots living in a past that would have seen them poorer than a church mouse and nothing more than cannon fodder.” Coach gently brushed his thumb over Eric’s knuckles. “I hope he doesn’t quit because of this. I don’t want him giving up on his dreams because of some homophobic teenagers that will live with their glory days always behind them.”

Eric stayed in the hospital for a week. Seth had gone home on day three. They wanted both boys to follow up with their primary physicians and come back to have an appointment with their neurologist to check on their progress and concussions. Mr. Daniels made sure to bring Seth by Eric’s room before they left. He had to turn away to hide his tears when Seth and Eric talked over each other, their mutual concern reaching heights only known by teenagers.

 

* * *

 

School was extremely uncomfortable when Eric returned. It was clear that there had been some sort of school-wide announcement. Seth was the first one to find him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Seth’s face was swollen and puffy from the fading bruises.

“Forrest and his cronies aren’t here. The school suspended them until further notice. Of course, there’s some _mixed_ feelings about half the first string offensive line being suspended -”

Eric grimaced, then winced as the stitches across his cheekbone pulled. This was all he needed. If it was rough before, it would be a thousand times worse, now. People in Madison were proud of their football team. Life revolved around three things: church, football, and hunting. And as far as everyone was concerned, he had been the cause of one of those cornerstones crumbling to dust.

On top of that, it seemed that every student had gotten the memo on exactly why Forrest had made him his personal punching bag. Whispers trailed after him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were saying. Slurs passed between friends, and giggles followed him as he made his way to class. This was going to be a long two weeks until the next competition.

He supposed he should be thankful that the doctors cleared him to lace up his skates. They didn’t want him doing big jumps for another week. Which left him with five days of full practice running his routines before he had to fly out to Croatia.

 

* * *

 

All in all, Skate Croatia could have gone better. After the short program, Eric was in sixth. For whatever reason, he couldn’t seem to get his head in the game. He flubbed the triple axel, which he was shocked at, then found a rut with the back of his skate. He wanted to kick himself for such uncharacteristic mistakes. He knew he needed to have a clean skate if he wanted a chance at the podium. But, he and Katya were nothing if not competitive. He wanted to prove to everyone that he was the future of figure skating, someone who valued the technical just as much as the presentation. To be honest, it was his artistry that kept him within striking distance.

So, when it came time for his free skate, he decided to throw it all out there. He couldn’t keep his brain completely focused on what he needed to do. He kept going back to those stupid boys in the locker room. Everything they said, everything they wouldn’t get in trouble for. He knew his daddy was trying his best to leverage his position to get some sort of punishment for Forrest and his cronies, but Eric didn’t have much faith that the Sheriff, pastor, or county prosecutor would be too helpful in punishing their own sons. Particularly when they agreed with the sentiment, if not the specific action.

He managed to get around his triple axel this time and forced himself to go for the quad toe, at least. He dug his toe pick into the ice and launched himself into the air. He knew the moment he reached his maximum height that he may not have put enough behind it, but he held on to his position and got all four rotations out. He two-footed the landing and fell. But, it was better to take the -2.50 GOE and get the four rotations, than to pop it. He recovered as quickly as possible and skated hard to get his momentum back up to what he needed to cover the ice and go into his triple-triple. Wobbly again, but he held it. Every bobble he made had this faint echo of jeering voices. They weren’t in the stands, they were back in that locker room.

Eric tried to get his game face back on and focus on his music. Rhapsody in Blue was a rather traditional choice, but judging panels loved to see young skaters sticking to classics. He breathed deeply through his nose and made himself loosen his shoulders as he started the step sequence. A jazz piece interpretation that’s held too tight and controlled would destroy his PCS and he needed those points desperately if he wanted to rank high enough to qualify for the Junior Grand Prix Final. He pulled out everything he had in him and pushed through. It wasn’t a performance he was proud of, but he got through it.

As he took his seat next to Katya she wrapped her arm around him and whispered in his ear, “You will be fine. You did enough. I am very proud of you. And I know your Papa is, too. So much fight in such tiny body.” Katya patted him on his knee with her other hand.

Eric breathed and tried to not dwell on anything other than the moment. “The scores for Eric Bittle. please.” The moment between the announcer and the scores being presented stretched on for an eternity. “Eric Bittle has scored 101.32 and is currently in first place.”

Katya patted him on the shoulder. “There. See? Broke hundred mark. Five more to go. You will make Final. Only one other skater has a quad. Maybe you won’t go into the Final as leader, but you will make it. I promise.”

By the end of the competition, he had worked his way up from sixth to fourth. And, barring anything unusual happening, he was going to the Final. Now, it was a waiting game to see how the last two events panned out.

 

* * *

 

Coming back home was bizarre. People weren’t walking on eggshells around him anymore, which was a plus. He had expected to meet up with Seth for their normal morning workout, but he had gotten a text saying that they would meet up at school instead. Honestly, he had been a little hurt. But, Coach patted him on the shoulder and assured him that he was certain it was nothing to worry about.

Eric about jumped out of his skin when one of the linebackers walked by and nodded to him with a pleasant, “Morning, Bittle.”

By the time he made it to first period English, his nerves were shot. No less than 8 members of the varsity football team had said some variation of hello to him. He sunk into his seat and pulled out his notebook. He had just started to settle in when a safety plopped into the seat on his right. The safety - Levi? - opened his mouth to say something, but just as he leaned forward, Ms. Ferguson stood from behind her desk and started class.

The next two periods were similar. Whenever there was a football player around, they made it a point of sitting nearby. Some just nodded, others attempted smiles. It weirded Eric out.

It wasn’t until lunch that the pieces fell into place. He had gotten out his brown paper bagged lunch when Seth hopped onto the bench across from him, all smiles. “Hey, Dicky!”

“Seth! How have you been? I missed you this morning.”

“I have so much to tell you! I begged Coach to let me give you the news.” Seth paused for slight dramatic effect, before blurting out, “I made first string!”

“Congratulations!” Eric laughed as Seth did a small happy dance in his seat.

“It’s all thanks to the extra work I’ve been putting in with you. We have had to modify our plays a bit. The rest of the team also got shuffled around, what with Forrest and his flunkies getting suspended and kicked off the team.”

Eric felt himself relax as he realized what Seth must have done. “So, Mr. First-String-Quarterback, are you the one responsible for all of the football players being oddly polite this morning?”

Seth ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. If Eric didn’t know better, he’d say Seth was fighting off a blush. “Well, me and Coach. He laid into the team. He said a lot about big fish in small ponds and how if anybody expected to get anywhere that they would have to deal with people who aren’t all of the same mind or interests. He had a lot to say about what real strength was. And he informed everyone that if they didn’t shape up, they’d be off the team.”

Eric’s jaw dropped. He knew his daddy loved and supported him, but for some reason, hearing that he would gut his championship winning team over it was earth-shatteringly real. “And - and you?”

Seth continued to talk to the ground. “I just told them what everyone already knows. You are amazingly talented and they should all follow your example. Then I kinda suggested that they were being jealous and maybe if they were actually nice to you, they would learn and be better for it.”

Eric sniffled and felt the corners of his eyes get damp. If there hadn’t been a table full of food between them, he swore he would have launched himself at Seth to give him the biggest hug he could muster. It also wasn’t the first time he wondered if he had a crush on his best friend. And _maybe_ that crush might be reciprocated.

 

* * *

 

Eric sighed as he got off the plane in Tokyo. He made it back to the Junior Grand Prix Final. And now, he knew what his competition was planning. Katya had decided that the quad was unnecessary to defeat the other five skaters. He felt a little disappointed that they were pulling it, but she was right, it wasn’t needed and he could focus on his PCS and skating cleanly.

Coach had come this time. He insisted that since Suzanne had gotten to go to Europe, it was only fair that he got to go to Japan. Eric was beyond delighted that his dad had managed to come. He knew that the airfare was rather extreme. His sponsors - thank you, Nike - covered his ticket. But Coach had to get his own.

He did feel kind of bad for stranding his dad in Tokyo without a proper tour guide. He hadn’t been there often enough himself to get a good idea as to where he should go. Coach had hand-waved it and said that he would be just fine on his own. All Eric could hear was Mama telling him to make sure that Coach didn’t get arrested for doing something outlandish.

But, Eric put all of that at the back of his mind and focused on his job. He was here to win gold, nothing less. It would help when it came time for US Figure Skating to give him assignments. He wanted to go back to Worlds and win gold. Katya was constantly trying to determine when he should formally move up to Seniors. She didn’t want him to go too soon and going too late only suggested insecurity.

And as much as Eric wanted to compete alongside people like Javier Benoist, he knew that he was not ready to perform on that level. It was merely a matter of time and dedication, but he would get there. Next year. Hopefully.

As it was, he was ready for this. Katya had prepared him rigorously. Focus on the short program. Then forget it and focus on the free. One step at a time. And whatever he did, he could not pay attention to how the other skaters did. Cheer for them, sure. Watch their routines and appreciate them, absolutely. But never let their performances, good or bad, take residence in his head. They didn’t matter. He was alone on the ice and it was his job to do the best that _he_ could. No one else.

He managed a perfectly clean short program, as expected. He smiled for the cameras and grinned when they announced his scores. But, he wasn’t much in the lead. Short was where you could ruin your shot at the podium, not where you won it. He did what he needed to do and put himself into a good position heading into the free skate.

Coach didn’t seem to care about the details. He was definitely the loudest cheerleader. In fact, Eric could hear him hooting and hollering over the crowd. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to die from embarrassment or burst with pride. He settled for a blush high on his cheeks and a wave to the audience. At least he could confirm to his mama that Coach hadn’t gotten lost in Japan when he called her tonight.

Eric put all of his focus on the next four minutes of his career. Four minutes and ten seconds. He needed to skate cleanly and get every last point out of his PCS. He had a feeling that a couple of the other guys were planning on trying a quad toe. In fact, he heard them chatting about it. He forced himself to ignore them and turned up the volume on his headphones. He would not deviate from the strategy that Katya had laid out. There was no need to hurt himself here when he had the entire back half of the season to survive. Nationals was the best place to reveal his quads.

They had outlined his goals for this season in laborious detail. He needed to peak at Junior Worlds. It wouldn’t do any good to blow out something early on. If the others wanted to throw caution to the wind, that was fine with Eric. He would be smart and listen to his coach. To be fair, Katya would kill him if he didn’t.

She was having her own tiff with the Russian team coaches. Eric wasn’t fluent in Russian, but he got enough of an idea. They were mocking her for holding him back instead of pushing. He even caught one suggesting that living in the US had made her soft. Eric nearly choked on his own spit when he heard that one. Katya was a lot of things as a coach, soft was not one of them.

No. He would keep his jumps to triples and wow at Nationals.

The skating order went in reverse order of placement. The Danish skater was up first. He did well. A clean skate, but he didn’t have a triple axel and his body language was entirely too stiff to really get a good PCS score. Eric clapped as he bowed and stepped off the ice. It was a decent starting point and he could be proud that he represented his country so well at his first Junior Grand Prix Final.

As the skaters progressed, so did the competition. Eric had to keep reminding himself of their game plan. Yes, Sergei Ristolainen had a quad toe, but it was under rotated and far from clean. His GOE would suffer for it.

He took a deep breath and didn’t register whatever it was that Katya tried to tell him. He was in a better place mentally and emotionally than Croatia. Coach was here and Eric wanted to put on a performance that would make lose his mind in the stands. The starting clock ticked down and he got into position. He pushed himself the entire four minutes and ten seconds, never losing his place, and maintaining character. He could feel the height and distance of his jumps. Eric was certain that he could get another rotation in if he wanted. But, he kept to triples. They were polished and sure. He noted the place where Katya wanted to add a choreographic sequence for Senior division and moved into the second half of his program. He paced himself and focused on not rushing the next bit. Triple flip, bend knee, steady, triple loop. It all fell into place. He grinned and bowed to the judges and audience.

As he skated off to await his scores in the Kiss & Cry, he picked up a small rabbit that had been tossed on the ice. It looked like - he glanced up and caught his dad waving - yeah, it was a snow white Senor Bun. He waved the rabbit at his dad and laughed when Coach danced in place.

129.28. With his short program score of 73.90, that gave him 203.18. He did it. He won the Junior Grand Prix Final. Gold was his. Now, to make his Senior debut at Nationals and get ready to win gold at Junior Worlds.

 

* * *

 

There wasn’t much time between the Junior Grand Prix Finals and Nationals. Somehow, he had to find a way to cram several weeks worth of homework into a 5 week period all while converting his programs into Senior level programs. There wasn’t a dramatic difference, but his free skate would go from 4:10 to 4:30 and they needed to add a choreographic sequence in. Preferably before the back half of the program so that he could still get his highlight bonus on his jumps. He was also in deep quad training. He had gotten the salchow down in practice to about 90% of the time. The toe loop, for whatever reason, was giving him more trouble. One was an edge jump and the other was a toe pick. But, usually the toe pick assisted jumps were considered easier than the edge jumps to get full rotation on. Not for him.

Eric wanted that toe loop. Because he could put it in after the new choreographed sequence and keep the bonus points. And turning the triple into a quad would really improve his marks.

School was - well, it was. He continued his morning runs and picked up Seth every morning. He told Seth that it was okay if he wanted to skip now that football season was over. And even in Georgia, it got cold in the winter. Sure, the ice rink was usually still colder, but there were some very frosty mornings. It even got below freezing on some days. But, Seth had countered and insisted that he should continue to come running to stay in top condition so that he could start the next season.

Coach couldn’t have been happier. He would plate up breakfast for the two of them and pat Seth on the shoulder complimenting him on his dedication. Eric thought he might die one morning when he saw Seth coming out of his shower, steam flowing behind him and nothing covering his body except what had to be the smallest towel in the cupboard. The boy was broad shouldered and his abdominal muscles were slowly coming in as both the workouts and puberty kicked into high gear. Puberty was effecting Eric in an entirely different part of his anatomy that morning. He couldn’t contain a squeak and shuffled off to get his gear together. Eric just had to remind himself that it wouldn’t do to mess up the best friendship he had ever had over a silly crush.

He whispered to himself over and over, “Don’t fall for straight boys!” Maybe if he repeated it enough times, it would finally sink in.

 

* * *

 

US Nationals came at him fast. This year, they were being held in Spokane, Washington. He supposed he should be thankful that he wasn’t going to suffer nasty jet lag. But, all that meant was that he was awake long before it would be sane to venture to the rink. And the competition for the Seniors was at night. He was going to have to make good use of naps for the week he was there.

This time, he wasn’t going to the public rink for competition. Sure, there was the occasional scheduled practice there, but his performances would all be in front of several thousand people. And he would be warming up and sharing the ice with names like Javi Benoist and Benji Chen. They were heavily favored to take first and second place. The question on everyone’s mind was who was going to come away with the title of National Champion. The rest of the field was highly inconsistent. It was the main reason that Katya insisted that he compete in the Senior division for Nationals.

“You have better base value for your routines than at least three-quarters of entry. Yes, you faltered in Croatia. But, we know why. You are current Junior Grand Prix Champion. You just show those judges your beautiful soul and watch them shower you with PCS.” Katya patted him on the face, a little on the strong side, but Eric nodded and put on his game face. “Good. We go to practice, only do triples. When your music comes on, we practice transition with extra choreographic sequence. Only triple toe. If competition throwing quads around, we see how it flows for quad toe.”

The public pressed against the glass for the Senior men’s practices. Eric forced himself to focus on his job. Coach and his Mama stayed firmly in the spectator section, but he could hear their proud voices echo every time the music went quiet.

As the week progressed, he recognized some of his competitors from the Juniors. They practiced earlier and eventually had their own short program competition in the smaller rink. It was surreal, but he knew that it was important

The short program flowed. He had a decent draw and ended up in the third group. It was a great placement for someone who had never competed on the Senior level before. Katya handed him his earbuds and iPod. He cranked up Beyonce and let her take his mind away from the pressure and noise. He did not need to hear what the other skaters were doing. All he could do was control his own performance.

His warm up group was announced. He skated out in his Team USA jacket with four other men. The next youngest skater was three years older. He did a couple of laps and popped off a couple of double toes to get a feel for the ice and space. A little more limber, he stopped to talk to Katya and left his jacket with her. The rhinestones on his costume glittered in the stadium lights.

“No quads. You don’t need to do that tonight. Double axel, triple flip, double lutz. Breathe. Focus. Be beautiful. Show country that lovely figure skaters come from Georgia, too.”

Eric obeyed Katya’s coaching as if it were law. Nothing fancy in warm ups. Just get the feel for the ice and the audience. Let the rest of the competition fall away. He skated off the ice when the announcer came back on and took his jacket back from Katya. His earbuds went back in and he went down the tunnel to wait for the two skaters in front of him to go.

A nudge on his shoulder and a hand in front of his face was all he needed to know that it was time. He passed Katya his iPod and earbuds, then his jacket. He gave her a quick nod and bounced on the rubber mat that protected the floors to the rink.

He had a quick minute or two while the next skater got their scores and to get to his starting position. He did not want to take any penalties for delay of start. He breathed out through his nose and concentrated on the moment in front of him. His vision and mind narrowed. The music began and he felt like he was floating through his routine. The triple lutz-triple toe combination to start was crisp and clean. Every movement, every spin, it felt like his body was shedding light across the ice. His triple axel and then his triple flip were flawless, the ice scraped just right and his landing spray was nearly non-existent. He pulled into his spins, determined to show his infamous flexibility off. He wanted the commentators to say that the only ones doing his quality of spins were the female skaters. The program blurred at his final combination spin. The soothing tones of Ray Charles brought him back as he brought his arm to their closing position, reaching towards a fictitious Georgia with one and himself with the other.

Eric smiled and took his bow. It was a clean program and he felt solid with it. And really, that’s all he expected of himself at this point in his career. He glided over to Katya and slid his skate guards on.

“Very good. Nicely done.” Katya sat next to him and handed him a water bottle with the wrapper carefully removed. They sat and watched the highlight reel as the judges calculated his PCS.

“May we have the scores, please.” There was a brief pause as the scores came up on the jumbotron screen. “The score for Eric Bittle’s short program is 76.23. That is a season’s best. He is currently in first place.”

Katya hugged him tightly as the camera zoomed in on their reactions.

Eric wasn’t sure how, but he managed to smile and wave at the camera. He even did the cutesy heart thing with his hands. Katya rambled in his ear about what his next goals were for practice in the day between the short program and the free skate. The walk through the tunnels was spent nodding and trying to pay attention to what she was saying, but his adrenaline was still rushing and he couldn’t pay attention to much more than his breathing.

He had a day of rest between performances. Which meant one more day to practice his free skate. And one more day to fret over his quads. He knew it wasn’t the end if he didn’t do them. But, he was looking to make a splash on the national stage. An announcement to the country that he was the future of American figure skating. And that required something spectacular from a 14 year old. Two quads in his free skate would do it.

He knew his parents were around. He even took the time to go to dinner with them after practice. But he had to admit that he was mostly just physically present. Mama had hugged him and told him that she was proud no matter what his final placement was. Which was nice, but he cared. He didn’t need to be first. Or even make the podium. Pewter would be amazing. It was an Olympic year, so everyone was bringing their A game. He just wanted to prove that he was going to go to the next Olympics. And to confirm his spot on the Junior team. He tried to keep Katya’s words in mind, focus on the immediate, forget the future, live in the now. It was the only way he wouldn’t start hyper-focusing. That way led to spiraling thoughts and bad PCS scores.

It was time. He was the last one of the second to last group and currently in sixth based on the short program. He took position on center ice and breathed through his nose. Rhapsody in Blue started and he was chasing the American Dream. Breathe. In. Out. He launched himself into his quad salchow, landed, and dug his toe pick into the ice and into his triple toe loop.

He could hear the roar of the crowd as he transitioned into his serpentine sequence and put his triple flip at the other end of the ice. He picked his speed back up and rotated to face his entry. He nailed his triple axel. Eric stretched out and showed off his graceful lines in his camel spin. The music’s tempo changed signalling the back half of the program, the highlight distribution, and his triple lutz-single-triple loop combination. He smiled at the clean landing and progressed into the choreographic sequence.

This was the section he had to add to make his program valid for the senior division. He set his feet facing opposite directions and kept his balance on opposite edges, then arched backwards into a layback Ina Bauer. The crowd cheered and he grinned brightly as he righted himself and finished the new choreography with a flourish. Feeling the energy in the arena, he sped up and launched into a quad toe loop. The cheering ratcheted up to another level as he dropped into a combo spin designed to demonstrate his flexibility. His triple salchow was easy and his triple lutz was his last jump. As he came out of his flying combination spin, he grinned from ear to ear. He bowed to the judges and the audience.

Eric took his chance to glance around the stadium and spotted his parents. They were yelling, but he’d be damned if he could tell what. They eagerly waved a homemade sign that had a giant peach and an uncreative, but much appreciated “Go, Eric!” scrawled on it. Eric waved and picked up a couple of stuffed animals as he got to the rink exit.

Katya slapped both hands on his shoulders and shook him in her excitement. “Да, маленький! Вот как вы это делаете!”

They sat at the Kiss & Cry and Katya handed him his jacket. Eric waved at the camera. The highlight reel played and showed his two quads, his Ina Bauer, and one of his spins. It then found his family. Coach was openly crying. He waved and hugged Suzanne, who had her hands over her mouth, clearly stifling sobs.

The camera came back to Eric and Katya and the announcer came on. “May we have the scores for Eric Bittle, please.” The numbers flashed up on the jumbotron at the bottom of the screen. “The score for the free skate is 164.63. His total score is 240.86. He is currently in first place.” A small SB came up next to his name.

Eric squealed. Katya pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his temple. It was a heck of a number. And he was guaranteed no less than sixth at Nationals on his first ever senior appearance.

He joined the other current leaders on the couches. They all hugged him and congratulated him on an impressive skate. Eric felt like he was floating. That this couldn’t possibly be reality. Eric sat in stunned silence as the first two competitors of the last group fell on their quad attempts. Benji Chen salvaged his program and came in with a score enough to put him in second, for the moment. Eric stumbled through the obligatory niceties. At this point, he was guaranteed a bronze medal.

Javier Benoist came out and performed exactly on plan. It was sophisticated and breath-taking. Eric jumped to his feet to cheer for him. He admitted only to himself that he had a bit of a celebrity crush on Javi. And when he came back to the couches and hugged him, Eric had a moment where he wasn’t sure if he managed to speak English at him.

The final skater, Stefan Nevin, took his position at center ice. He had performed admirably during the Grand Prix, and well above his normal performances. But, if there was a year to turn in exceptional performances, it was this one. And he held it through sheer determination. He fell slightly short of what he needed to maintain first, but earned a respectable second place behind Javier Benoist and pushed Benji Chen, the one predicted to challenge Javier for first, all the way down to a pewter medal.

That was it. Eric earned a bronze medal at the Senior level at Nationals. He couldn’t believe it. All that was left was the medal ceremony. He had stood at the top podium many times at the Junior level, but something about standing just to the left of Javier Benoist was a whole different level. He barely refrained from pinching himself to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. All that was left was to find out what his assignments for the rest of the season would be. And, at a small, sheltered portion of his heart, he let himself wish a little bit to be selected for the Olympics, even though he knew it wasn’t likely to happen.

 

* * *

 

The selection committee at Nationals had placed him on the team heading to the Four Continents and the Junior Worlds. Technically, he was an alternate for the Olympic team. Coming in third at Nationals at such a young age was impressive, but he didn’t have the resume in the Senior division that the other medalists had. There was plenty of time for him to mature before the next Olympics.

So, when he got a phone call from US Figure Skating two weeks after Nationals, he was justifiably confused. They then explained that Javier Benoist, the current National Champion, had broken his ankle in practice. There was no way he could compete. It was a tragedy and would deeply affect Team USA’s chances of getting on the podium for the team event. And it almost guaranteed that they wouldn’t have a shot at the Men’s Singles podium.

“We would love for you and Katya Petrushkina to come to the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs.”

Eric hung the phone up gently, and sat down gingerly at the kitchen table. He was afraid that he would wake up at any moment.

Suzanne looked at him, concerned. “Dicky, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Javi broke his ankle.”

Suzanne tutted. “That’s awful. You make sure to send him our best.”

“He’s injured. He won’t be able to compete at Vancouver.”

“Baby, what are you saying?”

Eric looked up at his mother, eyes wide in disbelief. “I’m going to the Olympics."

Suzanne gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. “Dicky -”

“I’m gonna represent the United States of America in Vancouver.”

“Richard! Richard get in here, right now!”

Coach stumbled into the kitchen, his can of Budweiser slightly dented in his grip. “What happened?” He stares at Eric, worry etched on his face.

“Daddy, I’m going to the Olympics,” Eric whispered, still not quite able to believe the words he was saying.

Coach Bittle let out a high-pitched squeal, a sound he would later deny even being capable of making. He wrapped his strong arms around his son and lifted him bodily from the chair. Coach roared with laughter and spun Eric around. “My son! My son, the Olympian! What time is it? We need to get cleaned up and go out to dinner. This is a night to celebrate! Sweetpea, call up that restaurant we went to on our 15th Anniversary in Athens. Eric, get cleaned up and into that nice suit you have for the media.”

Coach put his son back down on his feet and pressed a mustachioed kiss onto his forehead.

Eric and Suzanne gave each other a glance as Coach dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. In less than 15 seconds, the water was running and enthusiastic thumps echoed through the ceiling as Coach was trying to get undressed as quickly as possible. The two broke out into giggles.

“Well, I guess I’d better be making that phone call. You go on and set out your suit and make sure it doesn’t need any ironing.”

“Yes, mama.” Before Eric could make it out of the kitchen at a significantly more sedate pace, Suzanne wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss to his cheek. “Congratulations, baby.”

 

* * *

 

The team event was new this year. The ISU had successfully campaigned for it over the last two years. And really, it was one of the only ways some of the skaters were going to end up on the podium. It was important to have good strong programs across the board if they wanted to medal. Canada was heavily favored in the team event, even if they weren’t likely to medal on much more than ice dance in the individual competitions.

Eric was assigned to the long program, which didn’t do much for his nerves. It was a huge responsibility. However, Stefan was doing the short. And Benji was being saved from risking injury so that he would be in the best possible condition to attempt to challenge for a medal later on. According to the team coach, Eric’s ability to skate cleanly was the reason he got the assignment. All he had to do was land his one quad salchow at the beginning of the program and everything else was clear sailing from there.

Eric positively refused to be distracted in the days leading up to his turn. The teams sat on separated benches, grouped together for the cameras. The World Team Trophy was more lighthearted on the benches. Skaters would goof off and wear fun wigs and wave props around for the cameras. This was significantly more tense. And they all had to watch their teammates perform while the cameras watched their reactions.

Watching the men’s short program was nerve-wracking. Stefan fell. He fell on both of his quads. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was better to have fallen and gotten the full rotation than to have popped the jumps. That being said, those placement points were valuable and the rest of the team would have to find places to pick them up. Considering they had counted on his points to put them in medal contention, things just weren’t looking up.

Eric could feel phantom eyes on him. He really wasn’t sure if he could pull off the skate needed to get a medal for the team. He grinned and waved at the camera when it panned over to them. He refused to look disappointed or concerned. The whole world was watching.

Men’s free skate would be in the evening. He had four whole hours to get his mind in the right place. Which was easier said than done. Katya refused to let him lace up and practice. “Absolutely no. You are going to be rested and perform like you have never performed before. My Georgia sunshine is going to light up ice. Now, let’s take you somewhere to get some nice pictures for fans, yes?”

And that’s what they did. Katya dragged him around the Olympic grounds and had him pose in ever increasingly ridiculous positions. She encouraged him to talk with fans and sign autographs. By the time he needed to be back at the rink, he had barely realized the time had flown by.

He dressed and slicked his hair back, making sure to put on the character he was trying to portray in the piece. Right before his group was called to the ice for warm ups, Katya tugged him aside and gave him a once over. “Very handsome. You go easy in warming up. When program comes, you do what feels right. Triple, quad, does not matter. More important that you listen to your body. You are fourteen years old. I do not want to see star pupil hurting themselves for team medal and ruining Sochi or PyeongChang. Future is more important.” She patted him solidly on both shoulders before holding out her hand for his skate guards. “Now. Go enjoy Olympic moment.”

Eric went in the middle of the group. So, his ice wasn’t perfect, but it also wasn’t completely filled with ruts, either. He took as much time as he dared when his name was called then got into position at center ice, directly over the Vancouver Olympics paint. The music started and it was like the air cleared. He could almost see his movements a split second before he did them.

The first combination, the quad salchow - triple toe came to him as if in a dream. His step sequences hit all of the right beats. It was as if he was merely a vessel for the music. Rhapsody in Blue had been performed to death. But, it was a favorite of the more stringent judges and he was so much younger than the rest of the field that it would only work in his favor. His triple axel had never been cleaner. As he entered the back half of his program, he could feel his body start to protest, but his heart felt like it could fly. He turned his triple toe loop into a quad and knew he had landed it perfectly. The rest of the jumps, spins, and the last choreo sequence added in specifically to turn his Junior program into a Senior program felt like they were being performed on clouds instead of on the harsh and often unforgiving ice.

As Eric came to his final position facing the judges, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He was fourteen years old and had performed the best routine he had ever managed and all on Olympic ice. He bowed to a standing ovation and quickly exited to let the next skater have their time. Katya welcomed him with a massive hug. She kissed his cheeks over and over, babbling in Russian too quick for him to pick up.

A steward ushered him over to the team box to await his scores. 167.16. He was stunned. It was the highest mark he had ever received. It probably wouldn’t be enough in the Men’s Singles event, but in team it would be more than enough to earn points.

Katya wrapped her arms around him from where she was standing behind him. His teammates all jostled him and patted his back. Stefan gave him a proud smile and congratulated him.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Eric didn’t even try to stop the tears from falling. He had an _Olympic_ _bronze medal_. The older skaters smiled and waved. They were clearly proud, but they had more they wanted to accomplish. He knew that he wasn’t getting anywhere near the podium in Men’s Singles. But, none of that mattered. With his clean free skate, he had placed high enough to prevent the US from falling into fourth. This was his Olympic moment, set to O Canada, and he could barely believe that he was standing there.

He needed to do press. Heavens! People wanted to know who he was! Katya tried to tell him something as they were herded to the American broadcast teams, but he couldn’t focus on it for the life of him.

The reporters were all exceptionally kind and threw him softballs. What was it like competing at such a young age? How did you feel when you got the call that you made the team? You skated a clean routine and managed two quads in your first ever Olympic event, what was going through your mind when the program ended? The critiques were focused on the skaters who came to the Olympics looking for individual medals.

He zipped up his team jacket and made sure that his medal was situated _just so_ before ducking out the back exit with the team. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages. Only a couple of people had his number.

As expected, his parents had left him several messages. He skipped to the end, wanting to savor their live texts from the stands until he was back in the dorms. Coach had sent a picture of where they were, but Mama was the one that actually sent directions. He could almost hear her scolding him, “Really, Richard.”

 

It took a few minutes for him to make his way through the crowd outside the rink, but he eventually found his way to the McDonald’s that his parents were waiting at. He waved the moment he saw them and jogged over as quickly as possible, trying not to break out into a full on sprint.

His parents wrapped him in a tight group hug.

“Oh, baby, I am _so proud_ of you. Just seeing you stand on top of those rings. And the ceremony!” Suzanne put her hand over her heart as if it was the only way she could keep it in her chest. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of camera shots of me ugly-crying into your daddy’s shoulder.”

“Sweetpea, you are a beautiful crier.” Coach paused for a moment. “Even when you’ve got snot on your face.”

“Oh, you!” Suzanne punched him in the shoulder. “You are incorrigible.”

Coach crouched down and laughed. “C’mon, Junior, hop on! It’s been far too long since I’ve given you a piggyback ride.”

Eric giggled. “Daddy, I’m too big!”

“You are not! First of all, I know _exactly_ how much you weigh. Secondly, you are my son and you’ll never be too old. Third - you’d best clamber on before my back gives out of old age.”

Suzie tapped Eric on his back. “Go on, before your daddy makes a fool of himself.”

Eric wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and grinned from ear to ear when he was picked up. His legs stuck straight out in front of them both.

“Tally ho!”

“Richard, no!” Suzie yelled, but it was too late.

Coach tore off through the crowd laughing. “Keep up, Sweetpea!”

Suzie shook her head and mumbled to herself, “Lord, save me.” Louder, she called back, “You’d best not get lost in Canada. I’m not savin’ you from a moose.”

A loud and horribly off-key “Mmwwaaaaaaa!” was the only response followed by a stream of laughter.

“Mercy’s sake.” Suzie followed at a brisk walk. She had no intention of letting them too far out of her sight. Who knew what her ridiculous husband would get up to? By the time she caught up with her boys, they were horsing - moosing? - around by the Olympic rings. She pulled out the camera and got a few quick shots before they noticed her.

An excited, “Dicky!” rung out over the general noise of the crowd.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Coach let Eric slide down off his back.

Eric glanced around for the familiar voice. Seth waved both arms wildly above his head as he jogged towards the Bittles.

“Holy cow! You’re an Olympic medalist!” Seth wrapped his large arms around Eric in an enthusiastic hug.

“Seth, let the boy breathe. He still has to skate two more times before the week is out.” Mr. Daniels wandered over at much more sedate pace. “That was some performance, Eric. Your parents were screaming themselves hoarse when you landed those jumps.”

Eric looked between the two. “What on Earth are y’all doin’ here?”

Seth left one arm draped around his shoulders. “Couldn’t miss our hometown celebrity competing at the Olympics, now, could we?”

“Oh my goodness.” Eric pulled Seth back in for another hug and buried his face into his neck. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

Vaguely, he heard his parents talking to Mr. Daniels, but he couldn’t care less. Seth was very warm and very present and had been watching him get his bronze medal from the audience.

 

* * *

 

It was over, officially. The gala was done and all that was left for the figure skaters were the Closing Ceremonies. He didn’t get an individual medal, or anywhere near the podium. But, he was 14 and had successfully represented his country. His dad was waiting for him just outside of the Olympic Village.

“Junior!”

Eric smiled as his exuberant father.

Coach wrapped an arm around his shoulder and stage-whispered, “Your Mama is off on a mission to trade pins. And I found out who the preferred tattoo artist is for the athletes.”

Eric grinned at his dad. He couldn’t find a label for the butterflies in his stomach. This was something he knew everyone back in Madison would respect. And there was something inherently exciting about getting it with his father there. He looked up at his dad and felt like he could fly with the amount of pride and love on his face. “Remember, you promised to take all the blame for Mama’s reaction when she finally realizes what we’ve done.”

Coach pantomimed crossing his heart. “You just gotta do me the favor of not giving me up until it’s fully healed.”

“Let’s do this!”

Coach grabbed one of the cabs that had been hanging around the entrance to the Olympic Village and they slid into the backseat. “Sacred Heart Tattoos, please.”

The driver looked at them in the backseat and smiled at Eric wearing the American team jacket. “Congratulations.”

Eric grinned. “Thanks!”

They made quiet small talk as the driver navigated the streets. The glass front of the building was inviting. When they stepped through the doors, the shop was warm. The wooden floors gleamed. Each station had a wooden roller desk styled cabinet that held their tools.

Coach walked to the desk and checked in with the heavily pierced and tattooed girl in charge of the appointment book. “Bittle. We have an appointment for Shane and Teresa at 1pm.”

“Yep. I’ve got you. Shane will take your son, Eric. And Teresa has the drawing you requested. We’ll go over any changes to the designs, check placements, get your signatures, and then you’ll be ready to go.”

Eric gave his dad a confused glance. “You’re getting one, too?”

“Sure am! We’ll be right next to each other as we get them done.”

“What are you getting?”

“Ah, ah! That’s a surprise. Now, let’s get this paperwork done and we’ll get on to getting our ink done.”

Shane came to get Eric first. He was clearly the guy all of the athletes went to. He had every possible size of Olympic rings already done on paper. There were also different fonts for Vancouver 2010 and medals that he could choose from.

“So, what are you thinking?”

“Um, just the rings on my right shoulder blade.”

“Sure. Did you want anything else? I was told you got a bronze medal.”

“Just the rings. I’m hoping to go to Sochi and get an individual medal, there.”

Shane laughed. “Well, you already made it and you’re what? 16?”

“I’ll be 15 in May.”

“Holy shit, kid. Yeah, let’s leave plenty of space for some future gold medals.”

Eric situated himself on the black bed, laying on his stomach, his face turned to the right so that he could see his dad. Coach was talking quietly with Teresa as they worked on the placement of his design. It looked like he was going for something on his upper left arm.

Coach caught him looking, and with a good-natured grin, teased him. “No peeking, Junior. You can see it when it’s done.”

Coach made sure that he sat close enough to hold Eric’s hand as the needle started up. He admitted, if only a bit to himself, that he appreciated his son’s strong grip on his right hand when Teresa got started on his artwork.

Eric was done well before Coach was. He chatted with Teresa and Coach while he sipped on a water bottle. Hydration was apparently important for making sure the artwork took well. Shane gave him one last congratulations before he went off to prep another table for another athlete for their rings.

Coach made him show off his tattoo to everyone coming in the shop. And then proceeded to regale anyone who stood still for longer than half of a second how his 14 year old son landed two quads and helped secure a medal for Team USA in figure skating. Eric was fairly certain that several of the people didn’t even speak English and they certainly had no hope of translating as Coach’s drawl got thicker in spots when he was trying to ignore the pain.

Teresa started cleaning up and put ointment on the fresh ink. She brought up a mirror and angled it so that Coach could get a good look at the finished piece. He nodded and smiled, oddly soft, before turning around and showing Eric.

It was a modestly sized piece, but Eric couldn’t help but feel touched. It was a black figure skate with the words Always Proud in cursive beneath it.

“Daddy.” He tried to hold back on the waterworks, but didn’t manage when Coach opened his arms for him to launch himself into.

Teresa slipped them both aftercare instructions and started cleaning up her space.

 

* * *

 

Eric was excited to show Seth around Vancouver. He had given his ticket to the bronze medal hockey game to Mr. Daniels. He wanted the adults to be able to enjoy something a little more their speed. And it had the side benefit of being in Vancouver without any true supervision. He thoroughly enjoyed taking Seth to a diner and watching his face when their poutine was delivered.

“I still can’t believe you came all the way to Canada.”

Seth ducked his head and tapped his gravy and cheese curd covered fry on the top of his pile. “Of course. I couldn’t just stay in Madison while you were competing in the Olympics.”

Eric smiled. “It was a great surprise. And I’m really happy you decided to stay the whole time. Must have been hard to get all your school work in before coming.”

“Well, it was really only the one week of work to get done. And I couldn’t believe it either when Dad said we’d be in _Canada_ for two weeks! I don’t know how he swung it on his salary.”

“He must’ve felt you really deserved the break.”

Seth finished off his fry and plucked at the basket they came in with his thumb nail. “I think - I think he may have had _ulterior_ motives.”

Eric was confused by the tone Seth used. “What could be ulterior about wanting to come to the Olympics?”

Seth cleared his throat and stole a glimpse at Eric’s face, studying him quickly before ducking his head with a blush. “I - um - I don’t know how you -” Seth let out a heavy puff of air as he struggled with how to put his thoughts together. “I know those rumors in school about you are hurtful. But, I want you to know that even if you are gay, that I don’t care.”

Eric sat back in the booth and pulled his lower lip between his teeth.

Before he could pull his hands off the table, Seth reached forward and and grabbed Eric’s right with his left. “I think my dad is kinda tired of hearing me go on and on about how amazing you are and he wanted to do something that would give me the push I needed to say something.”

Eric could feel his heart racing. He knew where he hoped this confession was going, but he needed to be sure. “Say something?” He squeezed Seth’s hand, hoping he could give him the encouragement he needed.

“I - I really like you, Dicky. I know Madison isn’t a great place to be - to be gay. But, I was hoping. Maybe, if you want, maybe we could try dating? I would really like to be your boyfriend.”

Eric smiled and twined his fingers around Seth’s. “I’d really like that. I think I’ve been crushing on you for awhile now. I just didn’t think that you’d be interested in me.” He ducked his head shyly, blush blooming across his nose and cheeks. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by saying anything.”

Seth leaned forward, making sure to move the poutine out of the way before he did. “Can I kiss you?”

“Lord, yes.” Eric couldn’t get over just how soft Seth’s lips were. The gentle press between them made his heart flutter. It was the most romantic thing he could have ever imagined and he almost couldn’t bear how sweet it was. He sighed as Seth pulled away. They sat in slightly embarrassed, but pleased silence for a moment when Eric started giggling. “I have to admit, I never thought I’d be the lucky one to date the star quarterback.”

Seth brought their hands to his lips and gently pressed a kiss onto the back of Eric’s hand. “Are you kidding? I’m dating an Olympian. I’m definitely the one winning the dating pool lottery, here.”


End file.
